


Half Past a Freckle

by DeanRiordain



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Bottom Jensen, Cockles, Dom Misha, Drunk Jensen, Established Jensen Ackles/Misha Collins, Fluff and Smut, Jenmish, Jensen Ackles - Freeform, M/M, MinnCon2016, Minncon, Misha Collins - Freeform, POV Jensen, Smut, Top Misha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 22:32:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7776253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanRiordain/pseuds/DeanRiordain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>MinnCon 2016- Jensen was out drinking with JDM and Jared; Misha had an (unwanted) surprised guest.</p><p>Basically, this is Cockles smut with a touch of plot and some cute fluffy stuff.<br/>Jensen wants to cheer Misha up, and Misha likes to tease.<br/>**I'd write a better summary but it's 5am <3**</p>
            </blockquote>





	Half Past a Freckle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angelus_domini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelus_domini/gifts).



> Thanks for reading. Haven't really written Cockles smut yet- so here's the first go. Basically, I love comments.  
> Thank you. 
> 
> Gift for Angelus_Domini, who prompted me. <3

Jensen felt almost guilty for how late it was when he traipsed into their- (okay, so technically, it was Misha’s)- hotel room. It wasn’t graceful by any means, and Jensen couldn’t really recall the last time he’d been this plastered. It wasn’t as though he had intended on being out so late, or getting so drunk- Jared and Jeff just had that persuasion when they were together, which was rare, so Jensen didn’t really think twice, or feel bad about it- not until he’d realized the sun was due to come up soon.

He swore at the card key for a couple minutes for not unlocking the door before he came to the realization that the black arrow was pointing at him in accusation. He flipped the card and inserted it the proper way into the door and the green light flickered. He twisted the handle, but the door only gave about an inch before it caught.

“Mish?” Jensen asked, probably a little louder than he should, as he pressed his palms flat to the door. There was still a light on in the room, and the faint murmurs of infomercials on the TV. “You locking yourself in?”

He felt a little dizzy, so he leaned on the door, letting the chain support his weight.

He heard footsteps before Misha’s rough voice, “Keeping the crazies out,” he retorted, “Is anyone else out there?”

Jensen hiccuped, tilting his head, a bit confused at what kind of joke Misha was trying to make. “Who would be out here at-” Half past a freckle, Jensen noted, wondering where he’d left his watch, “-This late?”

“The crazies,” Misha repeated from behind solid wood, sighing with exasperation, “Just answer the question, Jens, is anyone else out there besides you?”

“Nope, just me.”

The chain rattled as Misha undid it, shutting the door, and then opening it, grasping at Jensen and pulling him in. As soon as they were both in Misha’s room, he latched the door again before sinking down and resting his head against it.

“And I thought I had a rough night,” Jensen teased. Where would have normally been a smile, or some sexy retort about drunken sex, instead was a scowl and a glare. It stung.

“If looks could kill. The hell happened?”

“Shatner.”

Jensen rolled his eyes, “What did the old man post now? He jealous that you’re here with me? That you’re my ‘date’?” Jensen snickered.

“Better you than him. Can’t have him getting the wrong idea. It’s too fucking much.” Misha said, “Tell me you brought whatever you were drinking back. It’s just all too fucking much.”

It perturbed Jensen to see him this way- he looked truly rattled. Jensen knew that Shatner had a bit of a ‘crush’, or as he liked to call it, ‘bromance’ with Misha, that Misha had grown to resent, but, seeing him this worked up was unnerving, “What happened?”

“He decided to make an appearance tonight. After you left. On stage. Here. Y’know, Jens, if you would have just stayed like we talked about-”

“Jesus, Misha, you can’t blame me. How could I have known that he’d pull some shit like that?”

“No more than I could have known,” Misha said, bitterly. There was truth in Jensen’s words, and while it was unlike Misha to lash out, he felt almost betrayed, “Of course, when shit happens to me, no one’s there to...how’d you put it….’save my ass’. Fucking Minnesota.”

That was right. Last year hadn’t been better. Misha had gotten mugged. Jensen had wanted to kill over what they did to his beautiful face. Of course, Misha had just kept going. And of fucking course, he probably hadn’t said a thing to Shatner after whatever had happened tonight.

“Mish…”

Another sigh, “I get it J, I do. I get that it’s been awhile since you’ve seen Jeff, and that things have been crazy with Dee, and filming. I know what it’s like to need to breathe. I’m probably the walking embodiment of hypocrisy with gishwhes, filming, random acts, the kids...but… conventions?”

They’d had this conversation several times, on both ends. They were both so busy that they just seemed to miss the important things, or even be there for the trivial ones. Conventions were their promise to spend at least a little of the time together, which had honestly been Jensen’s full intention tonight, even before Misha had admitted to needing him- which was something that usually went unspoken...it was normally the other way around.

“I’m here now,” Jensen tried to sooth, kneeling, but falling to the floor, unable to maintain his balance.

Misha sighed again, unable to argue as he scooped Jensen into his arms, “You’re here now,” he agreed, “But you smell like a liquor store.”

“Got a little carried away,” Jensen admitted, “Didn’t mean to be so late,” he hummed, breath hot against Misha’s neck.

There was silence for a few minutes, “Misha…”

More silence.

“Mishka…” he tried again, his lips brushing against the stubble on Misha’s neck, kissing and nipping.

“It’s Dmitri,” Misha finished. He knew where Jensen was going. Jensen liked being able to call Misha whatever the hell he wanted and get away with it, like no one else could...because when Jensen said it, it ran chills up his-

“Dmitri…” Jensen purred. Misha shuddered, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.

“Yeah Jens.”

Jensen picked up instantly on the hint of a smile in Misha’s voice, the irritation fading. It could have been pitch dark and Jensen would have known he was smiling.

“Y’know what’ll make you feel better?” Jensen asked, shifting in Misha’s arms, planting kisses on his adam’s apple and collarbone, pushing the hotel robe aside as he went.

“I think I’m getting a pretty good idea.”

“Making Bill jealous.”

“Yeah?” Misha was full-on grinning now, “And how do you propose I do that?”

“By doing what he says, of course.”

“Shit, J, what are you talking about?” Even if that had made a lick of sense, it probably wouldn’t have as Jensen’s fingers slid down his stomach.

“Fling yourself at me,” Jensen smirked.

“You remember that bullshit?” Misha couldn’t help but laugh.

Jensen wasn’t laughing. Comic Con had been a bit rough on him. It wasn’t Shatner tweeting that Misha’d flung himself at Jensen and had been ignoring him that had been a bother, so much as how hard he’d felt he had to try. He hated when Misha made him feel like they weren’t special. Even now it made him jealous to think of the way he and Jared had been playing there...how he’d looked pathetic trying to get his attention.

Jensen shrugged, and Misha locked his arms around him, literally carrying him to bed and tossing him down. Misha was a lot stronger than most people gave him credit for. And the look Misha was giving him was predatory.

He shrugged the robe off of his shoulders but caught it in his arms, unlacing the part that tied. “Aren’t you a rebel tonight? But you’re gonna be a good boy for me, aren’t you, Jens?”

“Always good for you, baby,” Jensen said, sitting up, pawing at Misha’s (of course they were orange) underwear.

“Not yet,” Misha said, pushing him back, “You weren’t good to me, not tonight. So you’re going to do what I say.” Misha reached for Jensen’s belt buckle, unfastening it. He was going slow, taking time to trace his fingers down Jensen’s stomach, against the fine blonde hairs that disappeared under the hem of his pants.

“Mish,” Jensen whined, “When I said ‘make him jealous’, I didn’t mean to make me beg, c’mon.”

“Patience is a virtue.”

“One you’ve never had.”

“Oh, I have it, especially in this case. Take off your shirt, J.”

Ever obedient, Jensen did.

“Not so fast. Put it back on.”

“Misha!” Even at his protests, Jensen’s cock was getting harder. Misha was going to make him work for it. He did as told.

“Take it off again, slowly.”

Jensen slid the shirt over his head again, this time, counting the seconds that it took.

“Good,” Misha said, pulling out the chair by the desk and sitting in it. “I want the rest of it gone, too, Jensen. Leave on the boxers.”

“I’m not wearing any,” Jensen said, coyly.

“Fuck, J,” Misha ran his hands through his hair, “Then, all of it. I want all of it gone. Jensen Ackles naked on my bed.”

“Fuck, Mish, you’ve gotta be-”

“If you’re good,” Misha interrupted, “I want to see you do it slow, Jens. Touch yourself like I would. Nice and slow.”

Jensen reached for his pants. He had an idea where to start.

“Not there. Not yet.”

Jensen whimpered again, but there was no sense in arguing with Misha. Bastard could hold out on him all day if he wanted. Jensen was never good at impulse control...and Misha could be damn near unreadable.

He kicked off his shoes and socks, tucking them under the bed. He knew Misha wouldn’t mind if that part was quick. He undid the belt completely, letting it cascade to the floor with a satisfying jingle. He shoved it gently aside with his foot. Misha’s eyes were intense, following his hands as they went to the button of his pants, unfastening, and easing the denim away.

All these years later, Jensen couldn’t help but blush. He still felt so vulnerable. As the pants slid further down, he felt pressure easing off, until his cock was standing erect, unbound by rough denim.

Misha licked his bottom lip, catching it between his teeth. Jensen slid the pants the rest of the way off before sitting back on the bed, waiting for further instruction.

Misha stood up, walking over to Jensen and leaning down, hand strong against the back of Jensen’s head. He was almost completely against his lips, his scruff touching Jensen, when he whispered, “You need it, don’t you?”

Jensen didn’t even have to ask what, because god damn, two seconds later, Misha’s hand was around his cock and nothing else mattered but the expert strokes. Jensen’s head fell back and he moaned.

“You think I’m a bastard, don’t you, J? Having you soaking wet for me like this, making you wait, all while you need to fuck off the alcohol affecting that pretty little head of yours?”

Jensen moaned. It was a better answer than ‘yes’ or ‘no’.

“You like it, don’t you Jens? Making a mess of my bed, getting me all _sticky._ ” Misha briefly let his fingers run up Jensen’s cock, wiping up the pre-come that he’d induced, before licking it off his fingers.

Even with the tie from the stupid robe draped over his shoulders, Jensen couldn’t help thinking that Misha _looked_ like sex. “Put your mouth on me, Jensen.”

Jensen could have done it from the bed, but he didn’t. It was his turn to play cruel. He sank off the bed, onto his knees, arms wrapping around Misha and green eyes catching onto blue. Jensen didn’t break this gaze as he slid Misha’s boxer-briefs off, proud of himself because Misha was in the same mess he was in.

“God damn it, Jensen, seriously? Fucking seriously?” Misha’s fingers combed through his hair as Jensen smiled, finally tearing his gaze away, taking Misha’s cock in his hand, and pumping, even as he licked a hot path up, letting the cool air from the AC hit him. Misha was already shivering.

Jensen smiled, “Bring it out, Dmitri.”

Jensen licked up the mess he had already made (though it was doing nothing for the mess he was making), before his lips closed around Misha’s cock, and he made certain to make the sweetest moan that Misha had ever fucking heard.

Misha rest his fingers on Jensen’s chin, pushing his mouth open just a little more, shoving deeper, which caused them both to groan in pleasure, Jensen barely able to take him, and Misha needing more, wiping spit from the side of Jensen’s mouth.

Misha hit the back of Jensen’s throat and he couldn't take it anymore, not being touched, listening to the sounds Misha made as he’s rocking his cock into Jensen’s mouth. He reached down, taking himself into his hand, needing the release. He didn’t come close.

Misha pulled away, leaving a string of spit as he forced Jensen’s hand away, “I said you’re going to do what I say. Get back on the bed, Jensen, give me your hands.”

Part of Jensen was growing frustrated with the pain of needing to fucking come; but, the other part was fascinated with what Misha might do next. Jensen held out his hands.

“Fucking beautiful, your hands,” Misha ran his fingers over the bumps and callouses of Jensen’s hands, which were still soft, and strong, and perfect...and, god, the things they could do.

Misha grabbed the robe tie from around his shoulders, twisting it around Jensen’s hands and tying them together. “On your hands and knees, Jackles. Well,” he smirked, “Your knees, and maybe your elbows.”

It was hard for Jensen to angle just right with his hands tied. He ended up on his elbows, ass exposed in the air, just like he was sure Misha had planned.

What he was unaware Misha had plotted was what came next. Where Jensen had expected Misha to be rough (which he was completely okay with), came tenderness instead.

Misha’s rough fingertips traced down Jensen’s back, down his ribs with gentle caresses. It felt good immediately, but after a few moments of soft touches, Jensen began to shake, on his knees, bow-legged even in bed, which he hated; but, Misha had told him on more than one occasion that he found it adorable.

Jensen was too busy shaking and shuddering with these touches, that he was oblivious as to what particular moment Misha had grabbed the lube. He felt the same gentle fingers trace down to his ass. He bent forward more, giving Misha a better view.

The lube was cold even on Misha’s fingertips as they ran over his hole, preparing him.

Honestly, it had been awhile. Jensen was pretty certain that the last person to top had been him...and it had been...well, way too fucking long as it was. Misha’s hands were familiar, though, and when the first finger slid inside of him, he felt his whole body grow hot, and he damn near collapsed.

“You’re the only person I know who can make love to me while punishing me.”

“I’d hope so. Dee’s not this cruel, and I might get jealous if you found another lover, Jens,” Misha whispered, kissing his shoulder again as he worked his finger in and out of Jensen’s ass, before adding another. “Relax, I’ve got you.”

Jensen’s knees were wobbling by the time Misha thought he was ready, and eased behind him, “I’m gonna make you come just like this J, understand?”

Jensen’s head was fuzzy and all he really wanted to understand was Misha...Misha fucking into him, Misha filling him.

“No trying to break free. You’re gonna come for me without your hands. Tell me if it’s too much”

And then Misha was pushing, and -yes-  it was too fucking much- and yet Jensen still wanted more. Misha thrust a couple times before the final push, where he bottomed out, and Jensen gripped into the sheets, nearly screaming.

“Shh, you’ll wake up the neighbors,” Misha chuckled.

“Who gives a- ahhh- fuck Misha right there, right there…”

Jensen had never been particularly articulate in bed; but, Misha often said how cute it was that he sort of...babbled. Misha, on the other hand, was fairly quiet when he wasn’t teasing...save for soft moans, and sighs. He just liked to enjoy Jensen. Who wouldn’t?

Afterwards, Jensen lay in Misha’s arms a shaking mess who never knew that it was possible for him to come without contact...just with Misha’s touch, his lips, his words. It would have been _Misha_ who’d done it to him. He’d lost it before Misha had, of course, cocky bastard. But, he didn’t mind- because the moments after were just as breathtaking.

It occurred to him as he began to slip into sleep he desperately needed before the panels tomorrow, that Misha’d begun tracing his shoulders again. It had taken him this long to realize that Misha was playing connect-the-dots, with each of Jensen’s freckles. He smiled, burrowing into Misha’s neck as his heart swelled, _My lovesick idiot._


End file.
